F♯

Bm

I was Gwalking by the graveyard, Clate last Friday night,
I Eheard somebody yelling, itAm sounded like a fight.
It was Fjust a drunken Chobo dancing Amcircles in the Fnight,
Pouring Cwhiskey on the Gheadstones Fin the blue moonClight.
So Foften have I Gwondered where these Chomeless brothers Amgo,
DDown in some hidden valley were their Gsorrows cannot show,
Where the Fpolice cannot Cfind them, where the Amwanted men can Fgo.
There's Cfreedom when your Gwalking, Feven though you're walking Cslow.
FSmash your bottle on a Ggravestone and Clive while you Amcan,
Dthat homeless Gbrother is my Cfriend.
It's Ghard to be a pack rat, it's Chard to be a 'bo,
but Eliving's so much harder where theAm heartless people go.
SomeFwhere the dogs are Cbarking and the Amchildren seem to Fknow
That CJesus on the Ghighway was a Flost hoboC.
And they Fhear the holy Gsilence of the Ctemples in the Amhill,
And they Dsee the ragged tatters as aGnother kind of thrill.
And they Fenvy him the sCunshine and they Ampity him the Fchill,
And they're Csad to do their Gliving for some Fother kind ofC thrill.
FSmash your bottle on a Ggravestone and Clive while you Amcan,
Dthat homeless Gbrother is my Cfriend.
SomewhGere there was a woman, someCwhere there was a child,
ESomewhere there was a cottage where theAm marigolds grew wild.
But Fsomewhere's just like Cnowhere when you Amleave it for a Fwhile,
You'll Cfind the broken-Ghearted when you're Ftraveling jungleC-style.
Down the Fbowels of a Gbroken land where Cnumbers live like Ammen,
Where Dthose who keep their senses have them Gtaken back again,
Where the Fnightstick cracks with Ccrazy rage, where Ammadmen don'tF pretend,
Where Cwealth has no begGinning and Fpoverty no Cend.
FSmash your bottle on a Ggravestone and Clive while you Amcan,
Dthat homeless Gbrother is my Cfriend.
The Gghosts of highway royalty have Cvanished in the night,
The EWhitman wanderer walking toward aAm glowing inner light.
The Fchildren have grown Colder and the cAmops have gripped usF tight,
There's Cno spot round the Gmelting pot for Ffree men in their Cflight.
And Fyou who leave on Gpromises and Cprosper as you Amplease,
The Dvictim of your riches often Gdies of your disease,
He can't Fhear the factory Cwhistle, just the Amlonesome freight train'sF whirs,
He's Cliving on good Gfortune, he ain'tF dying on his Cknees.
FSmash your bottle on a Ggravestone and Clive while you Amcan,
Dthat homeless Gbrother is my Cfriend.
+2 tones (sounds better to me)
I was Awalking by the graveyard, Dlate last Friday night,
I F♯heard somebody yelling, it Bmsounded like a fight.
It was Gjust a drunken Dhobo dancing Bmcircles in the Gnight,
Pouring Dwhiskey on the Aheadstones Gin the blue moonDlight.
So Goften have I Awondered where these Dhomeless brothers Bmgo,
EDown in some hidden valley were their Asorrows cannot show,
Where the Gpolice cannot Dfind them, where the Bmwanted men can Ggo.
There's Dfreedom when your Awalking, Geven though you're walking Dslow.
GSmash your bottle on a Agravestone and Dlive while you Bmcan,
Ethat homeless Abrother is my Dfriend.
It's Ahard to be a pack rat, it's Dhard to be a 'bo,
but F♯living's so much harder where the Bmheartless people go.
SomeGwhere the dogs are Dbarking and the Bmchildren seem to Gknow
That DJesus on the Ahighway was a Glost hoboD.
And they Ghear the holy Asilence of the Dtemples in the Bmhill,
And they Esee the ragged tatters as aAnother kind of thrill.
And they Genvy him the sDunshine and they Bmpity him the Gchill,
And they're Dsad to do their Aliving for some Gother kind ofD thrill.
GSmash your bottle on a Agravestone and Dlive while you Bmcan,
Ethat homeless Abrother is my Dfriend.
SomewhAere there was a woman, someDwhere there was a child,
F♯Somewhere there was a cottage where the Bmmarigolds grew wild.
But Gsomewhere's just like Dnowhere when you Bmleave it for a Gwhile,
You'll Dfind the broken-Ahearted when you're Gtraveling jungleD-style.
Down the Gbowels of a Abroken land where Dnumbers live like Bmmen,
Where Ethose who keep their senses have them Ataken back again,
Where the Gnightstick cracks with Dcrazy rage, where Bmmadmen don'tG pretend,
Where Dwealth has no begAinning and Gpoverty no Dend.
GSmash your bottle on a Agravestone and Dlive while you Bmcan,
Ethat homeless Abrother is my Dfriend.
The Aghosts of highway royalty have Dvanished in the night,
The F♯Whitman wanderer walking toward a Bmglowing inner light.
The Gchildren have grown Dolder and the cBmops have gripped usG tight,
There's Dno spot round the Amelting pot for Gfree men in their Dflight.
And Gyou who leave on Apromises and Dprosper as you Bmplease,
The Evictim of your riches often Adies of your disease,
He can't Ghear the factory Dwhistle, just the Bmlonesome freight train'sG whirs,
He's Dliving on good Afortune, he ain'tG dying on his Dknees.
GSmash your bottle on a Agravestone and Dlive while you Bmcan,
Ethat homeless Abrother is my Dfriend.

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